


Morden

by NotManTheLessButNatureMore



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Gen, Pining, corm and robin - the patron saints of pining, drunk strike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 21:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18536236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotManTheLessButNatureMore/pseuds/NotManTheLessButNatureMore
Summary: For all the unrequited lovers who have ended up in Morden.





	Morden

**Author's Note:**

> A shout out to all my fellow lovers who have fallen drunkenly asleep on the Northern line and ended up in Morden.

Strike’s head jerked back from where it had come to rest on the blue pole in front of him. The lights flickered and the empty carriage jerked to a stop causing him to almost topple sideways in his seat. He grabbed the pole again and heaved himself up. He stepped down heavily from the tube to the platform and stumbled slightly back on himself. The tube doors closed behind him and it hurtled off into the abyss leaving Strike looking down the length of the platform and finding himself alone. The only sound was Strike’s heavy steps as he stumbled on and turned bleary eyes towards the tiled wall in search of a station name.

 

“Fuck.”

 

————————————

 

Robin stared blankly at the ceiling before recognising the ringing that had woken her was her phone. She grabbed it from her bedside locker and saw Strike’s name illuminated in green. She frowned and put the phone to her ear.

 

“Cormoran?”

 

“Hello? Is this Robin?” A strange voice emanated from the phone and Robin sat up.

 

“Yes. Who is this? Where’s Cormoran?” Robin had pulled the duvet down and was paused in her movement to get out of bed. She wondered what time it was, feeling as if she’d been asleep for hours but the room still held the silence of the deep nighttime.

 

“My name is Samuel and I work at the Morden tube station. I hope you don’t mind me calling but your number was the most recently dialled in his phone.”

 

“No, no that’s ok. Is Cormoran alright?” Robin suddenly had images in her mind of Strike’s leg giving out and him falling down the stairs of the tube station.

 

“Oh yes, he’s fine. Won’t be in the morning though.” Samuel said with a laugh and then Robin heard Strike’s voice in the background and the sound of the phone being passed to someone. A scratching sound came down the line and then Strike’s voice greeted her.

 

“Rob’n? What’re you doon up?” Robin fell back into bed with a sigh and rolled her eyes. He was drunk.

 

“Your friend Samuel rang me.”

 

“Who’s Samu’l?” He whispered down the phone.

 

“The nice tube worker standing in front of you.” Robin said as she pushed the duvet away and got out of bed in search of clothes.

 

“Oh. He does look frien’ly.” Strike mumbled and then Samuel’s voice was back.

 

“I think your friend could do with a lift home.”

 

“Yes.” Robin agreed as she pulled a jumper on and grabbed a pair of leggings from her wardrobe.

 

“I’ll get th’tube.” She heard Strike say in the background.

 

“Sir the tube you arrived on was the last one for the night.” Samuel seemed more amused than irritated and Robin was grateful that it didn’t sound like he’d be thrown out of the station anytime soon.

 

“I’ll get th’ nigh’ tube.”

 

“It’s Wednesday sir.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Robin smiled to herself as she listened to the exchange and moved through her flat, grabbing keys, purse and a bottle of water for Strike.

 

“I can keep him here until you arrive if you’d like? I don’t clock off for another half an hour or so.”

 

“Thank you Samuel. Sorry about this.” Robin supplied on her partner’s behalf.

 

“Oh he’s not the first stray we’ve picked up here at Morden.” Samuel’s rumbling laugh made Robin smile.

 

Robin shivered as she sat into the cold Land Rover and got it started. The roads were quiet and soon she was making her way through central and crossing into Lambeth and then heading through Brixton on her way down to Morden. She wasn’t familiar with London the way Strike was, would probably never be, and kept a close eye on her phone’s map on the dashboard. She spotted the tube station as she turned down the road and saw the shutter pulled halfway down. Upon parking the Land Rover Robin jumped out and ducked under the shutter to find Strike sitting on a bench in the corner of the station.

 

He was slumped back in his seat with his legs stretched out in front of him, the shiny metal of his prosthetic visible from where his trouser leg had risen up, and a cigarette resting behind one ear. He was staring bleary eyed at a man Robin guessed to be Samuel, who was wiping away the remnants of the day’s inspirational quote on the white board beside the ticket machines. Samuel looked up and grinned before looking pointedly at Strike and bringing an invisible glass to his mouth. Robin smiled and walked over to Strike, whose eyes swung around and landed on her before briefly looking past her, as if he was expecting someone to be with her.

 

“Need a lift?” Robin said with a soft smile and a jingle of her keys.

 

Samuel joined them, sat down beside Strike and produced a box of matches. Robin furrowed her brows and looked at Samuel.

 

“I had to confiscate them earlier. I tried to explain that he couldn’t just smoke and pay the fine later but, well...” Samuel turned to Strike and smiled and slapped his good leg causing Cormoran to startle slightly from his drunken doze.

 

Robin said her thanks to Samuel and then with his help pulled Strike to his feet and gripped his elbow as he swayed. Samuel offered to help them to the Land Rover but Robin declined and then immediately regretted it as she bore more and more of Strike’s weight as they made their way to the old truck. Robin kept glancing up at Strike as they walked, his eyes were bleary at best and kept drifting shut as he slowly trudged along in an uncoordinated shuffle. Her thoughts drifted back to the night she’d gone looking for him after she informed him of Charlotte’s engagement. That was the most drunk she’d seen him, but tonight he seemed much worse.

 

As Robin leaned Cormoran up against the Land Rover and pulled her keys from her pocket she watched as uncoordinated fingers pulled the cigarette from his ear and placed it in his mouth. As he pulled a match from the box in his hand Robin saw that he had the wrong end in his mouth and quickly slapped the cigarette out of his mouth.

 

“Oi!” He shouted with a scowl.

 

“I just saved you from burnt lips!” Robin replied.

 

“Ol’ wives tales,” he slurred, “jus’ tastes awful.” He took a step away and then titled back towards the truck as his balance failed.

 

“‘m fine.” He mumbled.

 

“Yeah, you look fine.”

 

“Am. Got a hol-“

 

“Hollow leg, yes, you’re hilarious.” Robin said with a sigh and missed the slump of Strike’s shoulders. He collapsed into the passenger seat and Robin hovered awkwardly as he pulled his legs into the car with a hiss as he bent his bad knee.

 

“There’s a fuck load o’ stairs in Morden Rob’n.” She heard him mumble as she slammed the door shut.

 

The drive back to Strike’s attic flat was one of silence. Robin looked at him with confusion as he mumbled something inaudible every few minutes and then as they passed through Lambeth she looked across to see his features soft in sleep.

 

He came awake with a start when she pulled the passenger door open onto a dark and quiet Denmark Street. Robin watched with a mixture of concern and amusement as Strike made it to their office building and paused, forehead pressed against the door, as he struggled to fish for keys hidden somewhere in his pocket.

 

The climb up the stairs was a slow one and Robin fought the urge to wrap an arm around Cormoran’s waist. A strange heaviness settled in her chest as she thought of the similar climb they’d made years before. _Cruelty or mercy?_ he’d asked. As she watched him the awareness of how different their relationship was now rushed through her. She thought of the feelings that reared up when they laughed together over lunch or sat tiredly reading through evidence a hallway apart. The twinge in her stomach when he smiled widely, the flush of warmth in her chest when she saw the proud look he held for her at the end of a case.

 

Robin took a sharp intake of breath as Strike’s foot caught on the top step but he righted himself with a sudden bout of soberness. He veered off towards the left and with a hand on the office door knob he turned and looked back at her with a tilt of his head towards the lock.

 

“Your bed is this way.” Robin said with a look thrown towards the stairs up to the attic.

 

“No, I’m, I’ll take the couch.” He replied, the words sounded thick coming from his mouth.

 

“You’ll regret it in the morning.” Robin said with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t respond, a ghost of something passed across his face and Robin stepped forward with her set of the office keys.

 

Strike collapsed onto the couch the moment he got close enough and Robin sat on the edge of her desk and watched him. He looked around the room and then at her and smiled sadly.

 

“M sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“I’z late.”

 

“That’s alright. Couldn’t leave you to walk home from Morden.” She said with a smile. He frowned and she saw him swallow and hold his breath. Robin froze and watched him, ready to grab the bin beside her desk if needed but he let out a huff and slumped down in his seat.

 

“So what caused this then?” Robin asked, her voice light to mask the real concern that increased the more she thought of him alone somewhere drinking the amount of alcohol that was needed to get him this drunk.

 

He gave her a long look, his eyes softening and features slackening in a way that made him look vulnerable. It unnerved her to see his armor fall away.

 

“Jus’... nothin’.” He said and then looked away.

 

“Nothing?”

 

He gave her a long look, his cheeks slightly flushed in the way they usually were after he drank whiskey. He let out a hiss that turned into mumbled words.

 

“How’s yer date?” He asked, a slight hiccup following on from the last word.

 

Robin frowned and felt as though the question had been thrown into her lap with force. She’d mentioned her date to him last week, when he’d been doling out new cases, but not since. Questions launched themselves into her mind in a buzz of anxious energy and she felt her body tense and her shoulders square off. She watched him, the slight twitch of his lips as his eyes dimmed and he looked away.

 

_Why do you want to know how my date went? Why do you care? Why would you get this drunk while I sat at a table eating pasta on a forgettable date?_

 

She heard the voice in her mind whisper ‘just say it’ as another reminded her how drunk he was. Would he even remember this tomorrow?

 

The moment lingered too long and Robin watched as he bowed his head and let out a sigh. She waited but no more words came and so she made tea for herself, a strong coffee for Strike and grabbed a packet of digestives from the press. They sat together, Robin’s hands wrapped around her mug in defense of the chill of the office and Strike sipping intermittently on his coffee and munching loudly on biscuits. He passed her a biscuit and then cursed as the distraction caused him to spill coffee on his thigh. The coffee was soon discarded and left on the floor to go cold.

 

Robin’s eyes settled on his knees and she listened as his breathing began to slow. She looked sideways and saw that his chin had come to rest on his chest, a biscuit still held in his right hand. His left hand was open and resting between them on the couch and Robin’s own hand twitched as she imagined sitting there hand in hand with him. Robin sat forward and grabbed his mug from the floor by his foot. She tidied their mugs away and then grabbed a blanket from the storage closet.

 

“Cormoran?” She said as she placed the blanket over him and shook his arm.

 

“Hmm?” He responded, his eyes still closed but his eyebrows raised.

 

“I’m going to go home. Will you be alright?”

 

“M’fine.” He said and surged forward. Robin put a hand on his shoulder half expecting him to topple drunkenly to the floor and stay there for the night.

 

“You sure?”

 

“M’fine.” His eyes at least opened this time, although they were dull and went almost cross eyed when he looked up at Robin, hovering dangerously close to him.

 

Robin felt his breath ghost across her neck and smelt a mixture of whiskey and tobacco that transported her back to every night they’d spent together in The Tottenham. His gaze focused and his face became soft, he looked younger, the same way he did that night so long ago. _Cruelty or mercy?_ She felt betrayed as her eyes clouded with tears and she pulled back quickly.

 

“Robin?” He asked, the word sounding too big for his mouth.

 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She replied as she turned the light off in the kitchenette and headed for the door.

 

“Robin?” His voice was louder now and she turned, making eye contact not with Cormoran but with the cigarettes by his thigh.

 

“Don’t smoke, you’ll fall asleep with one lit and burn the office down.” She tried for a smile and then pulled the door open.

 

Robin shut the door quietly and paused, watching his muddled shape beyond the frosted glass. She saw him sit back into the couch and drop his head and then she turned and made her way slowly down the stairs and out into the frosty London air.

**Author's Note:**

> (As always) Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed these two idiots :P


End file.
